"Lady Vane! How lovely to see you."
Harriet turned to find Mrs. Wellington approaching, a woman she knew only slightly from various social functions. Mrs. Wellington was plump, pleasant, and possessed of absolutely no boundaries whatsoever.
"Mrs. Wellington. How nice."
"You look simply radiant this evening. Matrimony clearly agrees with you." Mrs. Wellington's gaze slid to Sebastian, then back to Harriet with a conspiratorial gleam. "Though I must say, I had expected to see you in a more... interesting condition by now. It's been two years, hasn't it?"
"Two years and three months," Harriet said, her voice perfectly level.
“But it would be unbecoming to keep a precise account, would it not?”
"Oh, I'm sure it will happen soon. These things take time. My own sister was wedded for four years before she conceived, and then she had six children in seven years! Perhaps you simply need to relax more. Tension can prevent…"
"Mrs. Wellington." Sebastian's voice cut through like ice. "I believe your husband is looking for you."
Mrs. Wellington blinked, startled by the interruption. "Is he? I don't see…"
"Near the doors. He looks quite urgent."
He didn't, of course. Mr. Wellington was nowhere near the doors. But Mrs. Wellington, flustered by Sebastian's tone, made her excuses and retreated.
Harriet exhaled slowly. "Thank you."
"I've been wanting to do that all evening." Sebastian's hand found hers, squeezing gently. "Shall we go?"
"We've only been here an hour."
"And yet it feels like a century. I believe I have a headache coming on."
"Do you?"
"A terrible one. Possibly fatal. The only cure is immediate departure."
Harriet looked up at him,her husband, her partner, her person, and felt some of the tension ease from her shoulders. He was watching her with that expression he got when he was worried, the one he tried to hide beneath sardonic comments and dry wit. He knew. He always knew when she was struggling.
"I suppose we can't have you dying at the Countess's ball," she said. "It would be terribly inconvenient."
"And so inconsiderate. Think of the gossip."
"The gossip would be spectacular."
"All the more reason to leave before I expire. Much more dignified to expire at home."
Harriet didn't quite laugh, but something in her chest loosened. "Let's go, then. Before your condition worsens."
They made their excuses, Sebastian’s performance of slowly developing head pain was really quite convincing and escaped into the cool night air. The carriage was waiting, and Harriet climbed in with a relief so profound it was almost dizzying.
The door closed. The carriage began to move. And finally, blessedly, they were alone.
"I can't keep doing this." The words came out before Harriet could stop them, raw and exhausted and utterly defeated. "I can't keep smiling and deflecting and pretending that every question doesn't feel like a knife. I can't…"
Her voice broke. She pressed her hand against her mouth, horrified by her own lack of control.
Sebastian moved to sit beside her, his arm wrapping around her shoulders, pulling her against him. He didn't say anything. He just held her while the carriage rattled through London's dark streets.
"I'm sorry," Harriet managed, after a moment. "I'm being ridiculous."
"You're not."
